In the background of the gods’ actions, which seemed to disregard future consequences, there was a great sense of urgency.
The situation where the downfall foretold by the Goddess of Life was drawing near moment by moment. To deal with this impending doom, each of the gods made different choices.
There were gods who prayed for forgiveness and sacrificed themselves, gods who waged war against their fellow deities, and gods who tried to flee to another world—but in the end, there was no other way out.
Thus, from the perspective of the gods now on borrowed time, it wasn’t a matter of choosing means or methods.
But since there was no clever solution besides making Rychlen into a god, they clung to him as their last hope, trying by any means necessary to turn him into a deity.
Even if countless sacrifices were made during the process, they paid them no heed, flailing about desperately to avoid the inevitable doom.
And yet, in this dire situation, Rychlen—their sole lifeline—was considering rejecting his ascension to godhood.
This must have been maddening for the gods.
“Truly regrettable. Such a shame. If you, hailed as the hero among heroes, had willingly accepted your role as a god, all this trouble could have been avoided. Remember well that this is due to your own foolishness.”
“Khhrrrgh…”
Rychlen, restrained by the gods, could not move a single finger but glared fiercely at Zeus.
Despite that hostile gaze, the gods continued unaffected, as divine faith seeped into Rychlen’s body, forcibly altering it—not into a human, but into something else…something incomprehensible.
Through the influx of faith, Rychlen could feel the deaths of many beings.
He could sense meaningless deaths caused by the gods’ desires.
This couldn’t go on.
Sacrificing other lives for such fools was unacceptable.
“So then, O Hero, become a god. Become a puppet king among gods, sitting idly while doing nothing. This way, the surviving gods—and we of Olympus—shall escape our fated destruction and bask in even greater glory! Our faith shall spread across all worlds!”
“Khhrrrgh…”
The faith reshaped Rychlen’s body, carving away muscles and grinding bones into dust, filling him with endless agony.
His bones turned into metal as strong as steel, and his skin became rock like polished marble. Each transformation felt like being torn apart by an unending blade of pain.
But more painful than the physical torment was the helplessness of being changed so powerlessly by these gods.
Once celebrated as a hero among humans, he now found himself altered without resistance under their will.
Right now, countless lives were being offered up to make him a god.
This couldn’t continue. Something had to be done.
With every ounce of strength, Rychlen struggled to move, resisting their plans.
If he didn’t act, many would lose their lives.
He couldn’t stand by and watch the gods sacrifice their believers like livestock.
So…
“AAAAAAGH!!”
Rychlen summoned all his remaining strength and moved.
Rejecting the changes overtaking his body—bones ground down, muscles replaced, blood exchanged for faith—his once immobile frame began to stir bit by bit.
Like a stone statue cracking and crumbling, his body slowly came alive.
Despite the excruciating pain of his flesh being torn apart, Rychlen managed to move his arm.
His hand grasped something at his waist.
Rychlen’s most trusted weapon—a club made from indestructible wood.
The gods merely sneered at the sight.
“What do you think you can accomplish with that measly wooden club?”
One of the gods holding Rychlen spoke—it was Poseidon, one of the Olympians.
Ignoring their mockery, Rychlen swung the club.
WHOOSH!
Though the club carried enough force to crush any living creature into paste, the gods showed no intention of dodging, treating his futile resistance with disdain.
“That puny stick cannot harm the bodies of gods—”
CRUNCH!
Poseidon’s words were cut short.
Rychlen’s wooden club had shattered Poseidon’s head.
Stunned by this incomprehensible scene, the gods froze as though witnessing something that should never have happened.
“Po…Poseidon…?”
Zeus stared in disbelief at his brother god collapsing, his head utterly crushed, spewing forth divine faith.
It was a horrifying sight, far removed from the formidable Poseidon known for his prowess in divine wars.
“How… how is this possible…?”
Before Zeus could finish speaking, Rychlen swung his arm again.
“AHHH!”
Another god hastily released Rychlen and scrambled away from the club.
Dionysus, who had moments ago appeared so confident, now rolled on the ground to evade the blow, clearly shaken by Poseidon’s fate.
At the same time, several other gods restraining Rychlen quickly backed away.
They must have judged that if Poseidon, the renowned God of the Sea, could be defeated so easily, they stood no chance either.
Though successful in shaking off the gods holding him, Rychlen’s situation remained dire.
Fortunately, the flow of faith overwhelming him ceased thanks to the gods’ retreat, but it was already too late; the transformations to his body had progressed significantly.
If this continued, he’d inevitably become what they desired.
“Ughh…”
Rychlen shook his head.
No. It couldn’t end this way.
As long as these gods existed, the problem wouldn’t disappear.
There shouldn’t be gods who treat their followers as mere cattle and resources.
Therefore, Rychlen resolved.
“A wooden club capable of harming gods… Could it possibly be made from the branch of Yggdrasil?!”
Murmurs rippled through the surrounding gods upon Zeus’s exclamation.
Yggdrasil, the World Tree—one of the seven ancient gods predating even the Divine Hall.
The racial deity of elves and the god of forests and trees.
A club crafted from its branches sent waves of both shock and greed through the gods.
Even wielded by a hero still transitioning into godhood, this weapon proved potent enough to strike down a god, making its value incalculable even to them.
“How could a mere human obtain such a weapon…?”
“Ughh… I don’t know! My teacher gave it to me!”
“Teacher…?”
Confusion flickered across Zeus’s face at Rychlen’s response.
Who could this teacher be when Rychlen had trained under countless mentors?
At that moment…
“Could it be…?”
A thought flashed through Zeus’s mind.
If anyone could acquire a branch of Yggdrasil, it could only be one particular deity.
“The Goddess of Life…?”
Why would the Goddess of Life give Rychlen a weapon? What purpose could she have? After prophesying Rychlen’s ascension as King of the Gods?
Then, Zeus’s thoughts unraveled and reformed.
What if… what if it was all a trap?
Regardless of becoming King of the Gods, what if her intent was to destroy the gods?
What if she orchestrated discord among them, inciting conflict to reduce their numbers?
What if everything was within the grasp of the Goddess of Life?
Then…
“Ughh!”
Zeus’s musings were interrupted by Rychlen’s voice.
Struggling against his uncooperative body, Rychlen reached for a small dagger at his waist.
A sharp dagger, good enough to slice through meat, but insignificant compared to the mighty club.
Still, Rychlen held the dagger by its hilt with his teeth and retrieved something from his embrace.
A small pouch. The faint sound of liquid sloshing inside betrayed its contents—snake venom potent enough to afflict even gods.
Venom that even gods feared.
“HAAH!”
With the dagger clenched between his teeth and wielding both the club and pouch in his hands, Rychlen hurled the club at Zeus, drawing the attention of all the gods.
Seizing the opportunity, he grabbed the dagger and coated it generously with the venom from the pouch.
“What…?”
Zeus caught the wooden club aimed at him and turned his gaze back to Rychlen.
There he saw Rychlen pressing the venom-laden dagger against his own throat.
A dagger soaked in poison that could kill even gods, now pointed at himself.
“You fool…!”
“If I die, your plans won’t come true, will they…?”
Rychlen laughed.
Death did not frighten him.
He’d already visited the Underworld once.
Fear stemmed from ignorance, and knowing death left no room for fear.
If his death could dismantle the schemes of these foolish gods, he would gladly embrace it.
Thus…
“The Goddess of Life will judge you in my stead.”
Rychlen plunged the venomous dagger into his own neck.
